


The Sherlock Enigma

by Thunar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunar/pseuds/Thunar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock expresses his affections towards John with a simple phrase.  John can not fathom this.  He can not fathom this at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sherlock Enigma

“I love you, John.”

The statement is so random and rather blunt that it sent the doctor into a violent coughing fit. He was in the middle of drinking his morning coffee after all, still not quite awake yet, and definitively not ready for that.

It was like any other morning, any other morning without a case at least, dull. But dull was sometimes okay for John Watson. It gave his body and mind some time to catch up with themselves after a long and exhilarating case with the famous Sherlock Holmes. This last case was rather interesting. Well, they were always interesting but this one had a rather strange vibe to it. The press had dubbed the man as the “Van Gogh Killer”. A rather stupid name, Sherlock thought, for his art looked nothing like the legendary painter and the media was only naming him that because they were far too simpleminded to know any other artists at all! In Sherlock’s opinion, his art looked much the 20th century Russian-French artist Marc Chagall. John disregarded this and simply stated that “His ‘paintings’ were all made with the blood gathered from the slit throats on his victims, and probably shouldn’t remind you of any artist’s work.” Sherlock still thought his style was more Chagall than Van Gogh.

The man known at the Van Gogh Killer would collect some blood from his murders and then paint a single red dove on the door of his next victim. At some point that dove appeared in 221B Baker Street. Luckily that’s where Sherlock stopped him. It was indeed an interesting case and Sherlock was quite pleased with it. He rated it as an 8. However, now the case had been closed and John should be enjoying his morning coffee without interruption. Instead, an entirely new mystery had been brought to his attention.

“Wh-what?” He coughed out, still recovering from choking on his drink.

Sherlock just continued to stare at him from across the table. A completely content expression on his face, fingers intertwined together and resting on the table’s surface. He wore one of his dressing gowns, usual early morning attire. Everything seemed rather normal to him, well Sherlock normal, like he had just asked what time of day it was.

“You what?” John had asked again.

“I love you.” Sherlock said simply.

Now John was ready to have a heart attack. Once was strange, but twice?

“You love me.” John repeated, still confused out of his mind.

“Yes. I just said that didn’t I? Don’t make me repeat myself, John. I’m sure you’ve heard me by now.”

“No no I’ve heard you just…” He fumbled for words. What are you supposed to say in a time like this? 

“Why?” Seemed like a good enough question.

“Why do I love you or why am I stating I love you? Be more specific, John.” He wasn’t being snarky, it was a legitimate request.

“Y-yeah, the second one.”

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and his gaze shifted to somewhere above John’s head, fingers steepled under his chin.

“That’s what people say don’t they? Normal people, I mean. When they care deeply for someone they express their affections by saying that phrase. I figured I don’t let you know enough how vital you are to me. You are an excellent colleague John. I couldn’t ask for better. Also you tend to deal with my occasional experimental procedures fairly well. I would have never expected such acceptance from such an average- No not average. Your IQ level must be above 120 at least. Average would not be the correct term. From such an advanced mind.”

John was speechless. Since when was, possible sociopath, Sherlock Holmes so… compassionate. -Wait. Sherlock mentioned he was an excellent colleague, not an excellent friend, partner, lover, whatever. He used colleague. Oh no, does he believe that this is the kind of thing that colleagues discuss. No no no he couldn’t have. Sherlock is brilliant, mindbogglingly ignorant sometimes, but brilliant. He would have noticed from further examinations of “normal people” that the phrase “I love you” is not exchanged between work partners. Then again, the man, as brilliant as he was, could be rather stupid when it came to human emotions.

“Listen Sherlock,” He rested him mug on the table.  
“People don’t say these things to each other unless they’re romantically involved, usually. I think you may not understand exactly what you’re implying. We’re flat mates. Two very male flat mates. Flat mates don’t go saying they love each other. Neither do uh.. colleagues. “I love you” is not something you say to flat mates or colleagues or even friends. That is, unless you want to eventually shag ‘em, and I doubt that’s what you’re wanting.”

John raised from his chair. He thought he might as well leave the man to his thoughts, and if he was humiliated, he didn’t want to make it worse.

He was about halfway out the door when-

“No, I’m right. I know what it means.”

John stopped and shot Sherlock yet another confused look. The 4th one that day to be exact, but who was counting..

The doctor sighed and leaned against the door frame. 

“Okay. Why do you think you love me?”

“I don’t think John, I know. To answer your question it’s actually quite simple. You are probably the only person I have ever felt strong human emotions for. Well, you and Mycroft, but those are emotions of hatred, disgust, Et cetera. You however, give me more positive…feelings. I don’t normally want to hit you when you speak. 

-And to answer your next question, no it’s not just happy feelings that you give me that prove I love you. A majority of the time it’s sexual as well. I believe those first started when I listened to you masturbating a few months ago.”

“Wait you what-“

“In fact, that is when I discovered that my urges to be close to you are not solely romantic. I’ve found a number of times when I must hold myself back from completely ravishing you. I’ve had several, what you may call, “wet dreams” about you, and I’ve had to “deal with the consequences” when I’ve woken up. I know sometimes you listen to me too when this happens and on one occasion you even began to wank off yourself. in the hallway.”

“How did you-“

“Really John you couldn’t be more obvious with your sexual affections towards me. But again, this is not just lust. I love you, John. You are truly fantastic. Also you’re dumbfounded expression is just priceless and it makes me want to kiss you. Usually such facial expressions will aggravate me, but yours is rather…cute. That is another thing, I find you adorable on most occasions.

-Also I think we should have sex later.”

The room fell silent as Sherlock waited patiently for a response while John tried to keep himself from collapsing at the door. What the hell just happened? John once again fumbled for words. The more he stared at Sherlock’s eyes, the less he seemed to comprehend what was happening.

“Y-you..you- said all of that. You’re serious. How did- How… Wha- Did you?…Cute!? Really?“

Sherlock just watched him, amused to no end by his stuttering. A satisfied grin made it’s way onto his lips.

“D-Dammit Sherlock! What the fuck?”

His grin just grew wider. He leaned closer, as if waiting for something.

“What the hell are you- What? FUCK! I love you too!” He blurted out before storming from the room. Sherlock then sat back in his chair and made a few mental notes.

1\. This is more fun then the last case

2\. If this is what happens to John’s mind with just words, I can’t wait to find out what else may leave him speechless

3\. John is very cute

**Author's Note:**

> The first Sherlock fic I wrote. Not my best, but I still love it all the same.


End file.
